I do not own Newsies (surprise, surprise) therefore I do not own any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story (another big surprise).


Humor, Fluff, Language, Mild Slash.
Summary: Racetrack invites Spot to dinner and convinces him to try strawberries for the first time. (This is a one-shot that grew into three chapters.)

A/N: Beta credit to pennylayne who graciously pulled an all-nighter to beta this story.


Strawberry Day

Chapter two

Mrs. Hoffman greeted the boys as they entered the restaurant. "Good afternoon, Mr. Higgins," she smiled. "I have a table all ready for you. It's the best table in the house. It has a view of the park and everything."

Spot raised an eyebrow and nodded at his friend. He was definitely impressed with the first class treatment they were receiving.

When they were seated, Spot looked out the window to take in the view. "I thought she said that this table had a view of the park? All I see is a bunch of buildings."

"It does have a view of the park, but we are two blocks away, ya know," Race replied. "If ya look between these two buildings, and across that empty lot, you can see a bit of the park right there."

Spot leaned across the table, craned his neck, closed one eye, and squinted the other. "Oh yeah. Now I can see it," he laughed.

The meal was wonderful. It was definitely a treat for two boys such as Spot and Race. They had roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and red cabbage. There were also hot rolls and fresh butter served up with two glasses of Rupperts beer. The two boys ate like they were royalty.

When the meal was through, the waiter brought the dinner check. Racetrack pulled out his coin purse and placed his money on the tray. "And keep the change!" Race said confidently.

Spot was definitely impressed.

Mrs. Hoffman brought a box to the table and set it in front of Racetrack. "Here you are, Mr. Higgins. Just as you ordered," she smiled.

Racetrack picked up the box and the two boys walked to the park. They found a nice comfortable bench and sat down to enjoy the scenery.

"Ya know, Race? This ain't a bad set-up you got here . . . Not bad at all."

"Well, I'm glad that you're enjoyin' yourself, Spot. Now get ready to taste the best dessert you've ever had."

"Look, Race. I appreciate the dinner and all . . . I really do. But I ain't sure about this strawberry business. Like I said. I don't like the look of the things."

"Oh, come on, Spot. Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"A'course ya have! Every time you gave me a tip on a horse, and I lost my shirt!"

"Ah that was just bad luck. This is a sure thing!"

"That does it! Now I know I'm gonna choke to death. Every time you say it's a sure thing, I know I'm in for trouble."

Racetrack realized that he wasn't going to convince Spot to try the strawberries by any conventional method, so he decided to pull out all the stops. He did the one thing that always worked on Spot Conlon.

"Okay, Spot. If you don't wanna try them, it's fine by me. I promise that I won't tell anyone about it."

"Whadda ya mean, you won't tell anyone? Tell them what?"

"Tell them that you are afraid to eat strawberries."

"Whadda you mean, I'm afraid? I ain't afraid of anything."

"Listen, Spot. Don't go gettin' all bent outta shape. You're the bravest guy I know . . . And the toughest too. It's just that I've seen you fight off guys twice your size who really were tryin' to choke ya. I wouldn't want anyone to know that you were afraid of being choked by a little strawberry."

"I ain't afraid of any strawberries, pal! Bring 'em on!"

Race reached into the box, and pulled out one of the delicious looking desserts.

Spot took the cake and carefully examined it. He raised an eyebrow and nodded his head. "This doesn't look too bad," he said. "And you're right, Race. These things do look like little pink and red hearts."

"I told ya," Racetrack grinned.

Spot took a deep breath and bit into the cake. He chewed it quickly then swallowed hard.

Racetrack chuckled a bit when he saw the expression on Spot's face. He looked like he'd just swallowed a mouthful of worms.

"Well, whadda you think?" Race asked.

"This stuff ain't half bad," Spot nodded as he took another bite. "I could get used to eatin' this."

Soon both boys were laughing and enjoying Racetrack's special dessert.

At one point Racetrack noticed that Spot had some whipped cream on his upper lip. Without thinking, Racetrack reached over and wiped Spot's lip with his finger, then licked it clean.

Spot stared at Race with raised eyebrows.

When he realized what he'd done, Race turned bright red. "What?" he mumbled. "You had a whipped-cream mustache!"

"I think you'd better lay off'a them strawberries, little man," Spot chuckled. "They are makin' you act a little crazy!"

"Shuddup, girly-face!" Racetrack laughed.

"Make me, half-pint!" Spot grinned.

When they finished, the boys went for a walk around the park.

After a while, Spot drew his walking stick from his belt and lazily scratched his back. He looked around at the beautiful trees and breathed in the warm spring air. "Like I said, Race. You ain't got a bad set-up around here. I could get used to livin' like this."

"Well, you're welcome here anytime you get tired of Brooklyn," Race smiled.

"Thanks, Race. But nice as this is, I could never leave Brooklyn. I love it too much." Then Spot stopped and lifted up the leg of his pants.

"Whadda you doin'?" Race asked.

"I think that maybe some ants climbed up my leg when we was sittin' on that bench. They're makin' me all itchy! Take a look at my back, will ya, Race? It feels like they're eatin' me alive!"

Racetrack lifted Spot's shirt in search of the ants.

"Jeeze, Spot. You're covered in red blotches. But these don't look like ant bites to me. Maybe you got the measles or the chicken pocks or somethin'?"

"I ain't got the measles or the chicken pocks," Spot bristled. "I had 'em both already. You can't get 'em again once you've had 'em."

"Well, whatever it is, your back is covered with it."

"Damn it," Spot hissed. "What am I gonna do now?"

Racetrack's jaw dropped open as he stared at Spot's face.

"Whadda you lookin' at, moron?"

"Um . . . Spot?. . . You've got spots! . . . Big, red ones. Your face is covered with big, red spots!"

"Son of a . . . What the hell is this? The itch is driving me mad!"

"Come on," Race said. "Let's go back to the lodging house. Mr. Kloppman will know what it is. He takes care of all us guys when we're sick."

"I ain't sick, Race. I feel fine. I'm just itchy is all."

"Well, like I said. Kloppman will know what to do."

-o-o-o-o-o-

When they reached the lodging house, Spot refused to go inside. "I ain't goin' in there, Race. I don't want anyone to see me like this!"

"Well, how are we gonna know what to do if Kloppman doesn't take a look at it?"

"Look, Race. If Cowboy sees me, I'll never hear the end of it. Go get Kloppman and bring him out here!"

Race understood how important pride was to Spot, so he brought Mr. Kloppman outside to the alley.

Kloppman looked at Spot's face and back. "Well, this definitely isn't measles, the chicken pocks, or scarlet fever. Did you touch something that you don't normally touch, or eat something different?" he asked.

"I had some strawberries for dessert," Spot replied.

"That's it, then. You are allergic to strawberries."

"Why, you little bastard," Spot hissed. "You've gone and poisoned me! I told you them things wasn't good for ya!"

End Chapter two


A/N: pennylyane pulled an all-nighter to beta this story. She's great and so are her stories. Please check them out. Strong Men Crumble (easily one of the best Newsies stories I've come across) and Lean on Me are two of my personal favs. They are well worth reading.